


Retroactive

by Spectral_Cat



Category: Moebius: Empire Rising
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Drugs, Nightmares, Other, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Cat/pseuds/Spectral_Cat
Summary: Malachi is forced to face his own demons while dealing with the aftermath of David's kidnapping.Takes place between Chapters 5 and 6.





	Retroactive

Malachi looked out over the New York skyline and let out a shuddering breath. He could vaguely make out his own gaunt reflection in the glass doors that led out onto his balcony. But his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on that, or anything else. He was jet lagged and sore, his head aching from the ordeal of the past 24 hours. He had managed to brief Dexter to the best of his ability over the phone, but given the late hour Malachi had returned from Zurich, Dexter thought it would be best to assemble his men and then meet with Malachi in the morning to discuss the situation further. In the meantime, his said, Malachi should try to get some rest.

Rest? How in God's name was he supposed to do that? He paced his bedroom anxiously, glancing at the rings in the corner every few minutes. He remembered when he first had them installed. Malachi had enlisted the help of his architect when he was having his penthouse renovated. He had given him a questioning look when Malachi described what he needed, but didn't ask any questions. He was getting paid enough to keep those to himself, even if he no doubt wondered just what Mr. Rector did during his private time. Malachi supposed the bruises that decorated his wrists afterwards spoke enough for themselves. 

He hoped he wouldn’t need them tonight. David wasn’t here to help him.

_David_

Malachi stopped his pacing and froze. Both David and Helene were somewhere out there, being held against their will, or dead, or worse. It was his fault, too, for not being more careful, yet here he was thinking only about himself. Again.

He shoved those thoughts away and made his way down to the kitchen, making a point to avoid looking at the door to the room David had claimed as his. He went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of brandy he usually saved for special occasions, pouring it into a tumbler with a shakey hand. Malachi rarely drank, but he found himself not only pouring a second glass after downing the first one, but using it to wash down two Xanax tablets as well. His head swam after that, and his body lost the tension and rigidity it had held for so long.

He managed to stagger upstairs, the pills and alcohol taking their desired effect, and collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to undress. Malachi usually relished being in control of his mind and body. It was why he hated his panic attacks so much. But tonight he couldn’t bear to be coherent enough to deal with the crisis at hand, of which he felt powerless in.

He sighed deeply as a comforting darkness overtook him.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malachi recognized the humble furnishings of his childhood home. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Something bad was going to happen, but he couldn’t remember what.

A loud scream jostled his memory.

_No_

Malachi raced outside only to be greeted with a horrible, familiar sight. His mother was being dragged by a lion into the brush, her dress stained red with blood, the beast’s claws buried deep in her back.

_KYE! STAY BACK!_

She had thought only of his safety in her final moments, and he had heeded her warning. But he would never forget the fear in her eyes, her screams, or the sound of the gunshot as his father raced into the brush after her. Malachi must have dreamt of this moment a thousand times, and he always woke up after that blasted gunshot.

This time, however, no relief came. He still found himself huddled on the porch, hands over his ears and eyes screwed shut. When he managed to uncurl himself from his position, the silence was deafening. Malachi didn’t want to look, but he had to. He had never made it this far before. Maybe, this time, he could do something. He ran through the brush, crashing into a clearing and bracing himself for the worst. Yet the sight that greeted him was not the one he had expected.

His father, mother, and the lion were all gone. The bloody body that lay on the ground was not of his mother, but David Walker. He lay in a spreading pool of blood, a gaping wound in his chest. His open eyes stared up at nothing. “God, no.....” Malachi whispered, tearing his gaze away from the body on the ground to the figure standing over it. The figure turned to meet his gaze, and Malachi held back a scream when looked into his own eyes.

It couldn’t be him. The figure before him radiated malice, it’s eyes cold and unfeeling, holding his father’s shotgun in a death grip. Malachi backed away slowly and shook his head, not understanding how this was possible. He didn’t have time to run before the figure aimed the gun at him, and fired.

“NO!” Malachi screamed, shooting up in bed. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. He ran a hand down his sweat-slicked face, trying to compose his racing thoughts.

_A dream. It was just a dream. That never happened. David’s not-_

Before he could finish that thought, his stomach churned painfully, and Malachi bolted out of bed and raced to the bathroom. He threw open the lid of his toilet and emptied what little contents there were of his stomach. Once he managed to stop dry heaving, he flushed, closed the lid, and rested his pounding head against the cool porcelain.

_It’s over. It’s okay. Just breath._

But it wasn’t over. Malachi knew this. What he didn’t know was what the outcome would be.

He struggled to his feet, using the bathroom counter for support. He didn’t recognize the person staring back at him in the mirror. His usually tan skin was pale and glistened with sweat, causing his hair and clothes to stick uncomfortably to him. His shoulders were slumped and shaking, compared to his usually tall and proud posture.

The only thing he recognized was the look in his eyes.

Malachi had his mother’s eyes, a fact he denied even to himself most of the time, and the reason his father so often refused to make eye contact with him after her death.

The look they bore was not the coldness of the ones the figure in his nightmare’s held, but those of his mother’s before she was dragged away to her death, shouting for him to stay back. It was a fear he had never seen in his own eyes up until this moment.

It was fear for someone he cared about.

The realization of this filled Malachi with a strange sort of determination, and he felt himself standing up straighter.

He didn’t know who had taken David and Alessandra, but he was going to find them. They weren’t dead. Not yet. He could feel it.

Malachi splashed water on his face before glancing at his reflection one last time. For once, he embraced his fear instead of being ashamed and disgusted by it. Perhaps because, this time, he had some power over it. 

He made his way back into his bedroom and glanced at the bedside clock. 4:07 AM blazed across the screen. He would be meeting with Dexter in roughly three hours. He probably wouldn’t be able to sleep again, but that was okay. The newfound adrenaline coursing through him was enough to keep him going.

Malachi showered and changed into clean clothes before heading downstairs. This time, he allowed himself to go into David’s room. He absentmindedly ran his hand over the top of the couch David had been using as a bed, as if he could get a feel for where he was just from this simple touch. No image came to his mind, but his eyes fell on a pair of dog tags that lay on the end table.

He scooped them up tenderly, running his fingers over the name and ID number scribed into them.

A sharp pain filled his head, then. He clutched it as he was bombarded by images of war and death, swords and guns, battlefields from too many different times to process. Malachi braced himself for the inevitable fall, but it never came. Instead, the last lingering images were of St. Armand, then David. For the briefest of moments, Malachi could see him lying in some sort of jail cell, unconscious but unmistakably breathing. Then the vision faded, and he was standing in David’s room again, clutching the dog tags so tightly in his fist that it hurt. The sharp pain in his head slowly faded into a dull ache.

He hadn’t fallen. Because David was there. And he was alive.

Malachi felt tears fall down his face, both out of relief and worry. Relief because David was alive, worry because he didn’t know where.

That didn’t matter. He would find out soon enough. Malachi walked into his living room and sank into one of the chairs. He rested his head against the back and stared out the large windows on the opposite side of the room, waiting for the sun to rise. Without thinking, he took the dog tags he was still holding and slipped them over his neck. He tucked them underneath his shirt, cherishing their coolness against his bare chest. 

This way, he could give them back to David when he found him. In the meantime, Malachi would keep them close to him. Close to his heart.

He wasn’t a helpless child anymore. He could do something. Something that no one else but him could. When the sun rose, Malachi rose with it, ready to face whatever lay ahead of him. He was going to find them. He would find the bastards who took them, and make them pay. He would return Helene to her family.

And, most importantly, he would bring David home.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the rough draft of this on my phone at 3 am because I couldn't sleep. I think I've had the idea for this ever since I played the game when it first came out, so this has been a long time coming. I'm glad I recently got back into writing fanfic, even if it's for a game with a very small following. And yeah Malachi is kind of less of a mess by the end of this than he his in Chapter 6 because I felt like giving this a happier ending. 
> 
> As with everything I write, feel free to comment!


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